The Red Boot
by Gottahavemyncis
Summary: Tim McGee returns home after a long day to find a bit of a mystery. Total fluff, just couldn't resist.


The Red Boot

Tim entered his home after a long week with his team, chasing leads and finally busting a particularly troublesome murder case wide open. He was greeted by his pets, Curly, a Bichon Frisé, and Curly's nemesis, a Manx cat with the inelegant and unfortunately all too accurate name of Pooper.

He threw his keys onto the small table he kept by the front door, scooped up the bill from his dogwalker along with a small container of nutritious animal treats and shrugged his jacket off while Pooper and Curly competed for his attention. He gave them each some love and a couple of treats each as he headed for the coat closet, noticing something was different. Whatever it was didn't register in his very tired brain. Opening the door of the closet, he removed his weapon from the holster, placing it into the small safe bolted onto the floor of the coat closet and then hanging up his jacket. Closing the door firmly as Pooper loved to paw doors open, Tim wandered into the kitchen to see if some magic genie had either cooked him dinner or at least filled his refrigerator or freezer with edible food. With no such luck, he looked at the expiration date on the eggs and knew he could have some tonight, but beyond today, he'd be living on the edge by eating any more of the nearly full carton. Cracking eggs into his handy-dandy microwave omelette maker, he threw some spices in, closed the cover and put the whole thing in the microwave. While it was cooking, he found some still edible bread and popped it into the toaster, then grabbed his favorite boysenberry jam from the refrigerator. His meal cooked and ready, he poured a glass of juice and then carried it all to his new kitchen table. He sat down, and once again congratulated himself for getting the nicely padded chairs. They were much more comfortable on his tired body than the wooden ones that normally came with the table. After devouring his meal, he leaned down to give some more love to his pets. As he did so, he caught a glimpse of just exactly what had seemed out of place earlier.

One of his snow boots was sitting in the middle of the living room all by itself, straight up, looking for all the world as if it belonged just there. Considering that it was nearly June and the jacket he'd just hung up was the lightest one he owned, the snow boot made a very incongruous statement. One red boot, in the middle of the room. He thought about his entry into the house. He'd walked in and registered something but didn't investigate. He remembered twisting the handle of the closet door and pulling a bit to get it open. The door always stuck a bit and it was on the list to be fixed, but he'd had so much to do since he bought the place a few months ago he just hadn't gotten around to it yet. But the door had definitely been closed when he approached it. And the snow boots, two of them - a matched pair, had been in the closet when he'd left for work this morning, he remembered thinking he could pack them away for a few months and then laughing at himself because it would likely be winter again before he got around to it.

Removing his weapon from the safe, and once again ensuring the closet door was firmly closed, he now cleared each room, making sure nothing else was out of order. Returning to the living room, he glared at the boot, still sitting on the floor. He quickly called his dog walker and asked if she remembered the boot being in the middle of the floor or if the closet door had been open. Her reply was that when she brought Curly home, she had stayed to play with Pooper for a few minutes and remembered Tim commenting about the cat having been stuck in the closet one Saturday. So today she had taken notice , that the closet door was firmly closed with Pooper on the right side of the door. There was no boot in the middle of the floor. Even knowing she was not a prankster, Tim still had to ask if she'd done it and was relieved when the woman was amused rather than insulted.

Ending the call, he put his phone on the counter and turned to face the closet, only to find both Curly and Pooper sitting behind him, watching him.

"Ok, you two, who got the door open and who had the brilliant idea of pulling out and displaying one red boot?"

Curly blinked at him and then retreated to her bed, curling up in an indignant white ball of fluff. Tim turned to Pooper, "She gave you up and there's no way a truce could hold between you two." He paused. "Cats like to present their findings – a rodent, bug, bird, etc. Curly's never shown any tendency to do that, in fact she usually hides stuff she takes, such as my socks or sneakers. Yep, it was you, Poops. What do you have to say for yourself?"

Pooper gave him a "who, little old me?" cat look and then started to move his hind end towards the floor in a way that Tim knew meant he was about to live up to his name and that it would be a statement of something or other. Being inside all the time? Being alone most of the day? Being accused of being the boot philanderer? Tim scooped the cat up quickly, holding him away from him with Pooper's backside pointed toward the floor and rushed him to the litter box. Pooper was hissing in anger and trying to reach Tim's hand with his teeth. Throwing the angry animal onto the cat's soft fluffy bed, Tim retreated, shutting the door behind him. Yes, he'd escaped a clawing and a bite, a successful evening! He knew there would be a mess to clean later, Pooper really didn't care where he made his statement as long as Tim saw it and had to clean it up.

Now if he could only figure out how the darn thing had gotten that boot out of the closet!

* * *

A/N: Although the names have been changed to protect the guilty and I'm obviously not Tim McGee nor do I carry a weapon (unless Pooper's real life namesake can be considered a weapon), this tale of the red boot in the middle of the floor is a true one, happened a couple of weeks ago. Only the dog and cats (in real life there are 3) were home, the closet door does stick and it was firmly closed when I left the house. When my housemate and I returned, we noticed something was off but it was a few minutes before I realized one red snow boot, in the closet when we left, was in the middle of the living room floor.

And yes, I questioned both animals. Of course I did, I'm an NCIS fan!


End file.
